


Path to Kerberos

by bun_o_ween



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Adult Keith (Voltron), Anal Fingering, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Emotional Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Love Confessions, M/M, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Kerberos Mission, Rough Sex, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Large Cock, Virgin Keith (Voltron), very brief thoughts of suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 08:48:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27967832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bun_o_ween/pseuds/bun_o_ween
Summary: Keith wonders if he started crying now could he guilt Shiro into abandoning the mission? He thinks he could. He thinks Shiro loves him that much and its heavy knowledge to be burdened with. Its a weapon. He could force Shiro to stay if only he begged him to. But what sort of man asks Takashi Shirogane to choose between him and a life amongst the stars?
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 222





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little thing that started as a Twitter thread and became far more emotional than I expected. First chapter is pre-Kerb/first kisses, and the second chapter takes place after Keith has joined the Blades and features all those xxx-rated tags you'll see above >:)

_The stars, the moon, they have all been blown out  
You left me in the dark_

The night before the Kerberos mission seems like any other.

Shiro answers the door to his apartment dressed in a t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Like any other night Keith blushes, ducking under the man’s arm and escaping the offending sweatpants. Everyone in the Garrison talks about them - or more importantly, what’s inside.

The night _seems_ like any other - but Keith’s stomach is sick with butterflies. Shiro is leaving. Shiro will be gone for years. He tries to ignore how that makes him feel. It’s as if someone told Keith the sun won’t rise tomorrow and he’s supposed to act like that doesn’t affect him.

Shiro’s apartment smells like burned but overly-buttered popcorn.

And its clean. Very clean.

Like _no-one-is-going-to-live-here-for-two-years_ clean.

Keith places his Tupperware container of cookies on the counter and takes a seat, noting how empty the place is. There used to be a photo of Shiro and Adam by the coffee machine - it’s missing. He hasn’t spoken to his best friend about the breakup yet and Keith’s not sure tonight’s the night to do it. Shiro’s got bigger things on his mind. Greater things.

Besides, Keith’s not sure he could keep a smile off his face when he thinks about it. He doesn’t like Adam, never has. It’s childish, he knows - but Adam brought it on himself. What sort of man asks Takashi Shirogane to choose between him and a life amongst the stars? A stupid one.

A warm weight presses against Keith’s back. Shiro places his head in the crook of Keith’s shoulder and he’s hot, fresh out of the shower. His arms squeeze either side of him and Keith wants to _die_ \- Shiro’s somehow gotten even bigger in his lead up for the mission.

“What’s this?” Shiro asks, reaching for the Tupperware.

There’s no way the man knows what his voice or his biceps do to Keith or else he wouldn’t do it. It knots Keith up inside. It makes him stammer. Keith snorts and jerks his elbow backward into rock hard abs. He needs Shiro to get off him before he burns up inside.

“These are contraband, cadet.”

Keith has to close his eyes when Shiro says that. He presses his thighs together and hopes his best friend can’t see how pink his ears are.

“Oh?” He feigns innocence. “I’ll dispose of them, sir.”

Shiro laughs right into his ear as he grips the Tupperware, popping open the plastic locks. There’s a dark side to him, an antithesis of the Golden Boy aesthetic. It’s a fun and a gluttonous side, and Shiro’s flat and chiselled stomach doesn’t betray his love for homemade double-choc cookies.  
  
Keith traded a lot to get his hands on these. But Shiro’s worth it.

“I’ll dispose of them myself,” Shiro says in a very serious voice.

Then he stuffs an entire cookie into his mouth in one go. Keith bites his lip so his smile doesn’t get anymore ridiculous. Crumbs litter the counter and the man groans at the taste. It’s a selfish sound, his dark eyelashes fanning across his cheeks as his eyebrows meet. Keith’s heart clenches.

“So good,” Shiro says, his voice low and husky and sprinkled with crumbs.

Keith is so in love with him.

He always has been. A puppy crush was born the day he stole Shiro’s car. He was the first person to look at him with a challenging sort of softness, an expression like his father’s. But the way Keith felt for Shiro was anything but familial.

Everyone liked Shiro.

Keith wasn’t the only boy with a crush on the hotshot pilot. Everyone with eyes could see how handsome Shiro was. Everyone who brushed past him in the Garrison could smell his cologne, the trace of gentle aftershave. Anyone who spent five minutes with him left feeling better than they had before - and none more so than Keith.

He knew his crush was not special or unique, and neither was he. But it was strong, consuming. His crush was an animal that had outgrown him, and had become a devastating case of unrequited love.

Shiro’s already got a movie on and he brings the cookies and the popcorn to the overly-clean living room. Keith tucks his feet beneath the knitted blanket, nests himself into his familiar spot. He’s seen this movie a thousand times and perhaps that’s how tonight is supposed to feel.

Normal.

Maybe that’s what Shiro needs. But Keith can see his suitcase sitting at the door and notices knick knacks missing from the bookshelf. It doesn’t feel normal to him. He stuffs some lukewarm popcorn between his lips and see the polaroid of him and Shiro is missing too. It was taken at the canyon after a ride, just the two of them and the sunset. Keith has a matching copy in his room and his chest clenches when he thinks Shiro might be taking his to space.

The popcorn is greasy but its the way they both like it. They both mimic lines from the movie. They’ve had this exact same night so many times before than Keith knows when Shiro will laugh, and even which type of laugh he’ll do. He spends most of the movie staring at the side of Shiro’s head and memorising each detail as if packing his own bag of mementos.

Smile lines. Neatly trimmed hair. Thin, white t-shirt. Adam’s apple. Dog tags.

"Keith, is everything okay?"  
  
Keith jerks back to reality. The mouth he was staring at is talking to him. There's a lump forming in his throat.  
  
"I'm fine."  
  
"You're being quiet.”

Shiro examines him carefully. He’s always been kind to Keith’s sharp edges. Overtime he’s worn them down. He never makes the boy feel silly for struggling with things that others don’t. The lump in Keith’s throat gets a little bigger and he’s not sure he can even voice what he is thinking about. Shiro’s tender smile is laced with concern and instantly he feels guilty.  
  
"I'm going to miss you," Keith admits.

The words hurt as they force their way over his throat. Keith drags his knees up to his chest as if to protect his little, bleeding heart. Shiro’s face changes. Guilt. He feels guilty. His eyes downturn and his smile fades. Keith feels worse - he knows Shiro cares about him.

Keith often wonders what words he could say to make Shiro stay. If he started crying now could he guilt him into abandoning the mission? He thinks he could. He thinks Shiro loves him that much and its heavy knowledge to be burdened with. Its a weapon. He could force Shiro to stay if only he begged him to.

But Keith asks himself again - what sort of man asks Shiro to choose between him and the stars?

Shiro grips his forearm and his touch communicates everything Keith needs to hear. It stays there for the rest of the movie and at some point finds his hand. Keith doesn’t dare to look at it - he thinks he’ll catch aflame if he sees his little hand clasped inside of Shiro’s. Every so often the man squeezes it like a heartbeat.

When the credits roll there’s a silence Shiro quickly fills with nonsense. He lets go of Keith’s hand to gesticulate, to give his somewhat offensive impression of Iverson. He tells Keith things he shouldn’t know, details about the trip and shows him maps, images of far off destinations he’ll be passing in a matter of months.

“It’s the furthest we’ve ever gone,” Shiro says.

And Keith knows he doesn’t mean just himself and the two Holts. He means humanity. This is larger than the two of them. Shiro’s enthusiasm for space exploration is contagious and Keith wouldn’t be enrolled at the Garrison if he hadn’t caught Shiro’s fondness for it. He loves space, almost as much as he loves the man that introduced him to it. The two of them together is intoxicating.

When there’s no more maps to explore, no more gossip to share about his crew-mates, a silence falls between them.

It’s late and Keith knows Shiro has to get up early. He’s leaving. Oh god. _Hesleavinghesleavinghesleaving_. For two years. Keith’s eyes prickle. He's going to throw up. Shiro sees his face twist and his big, warm hand returns to the boy’s arm.  
  
"Hey," he says - and he's smiling again.

 _Does he ever not smile?_ Keith thinks. Shiro’s hair is dry now and that silly forelock of his falls forward.  
  
"It's not forever," he says.  
  
Keith shakes his head. He knows! He knows that. He feels so stupid for dampening the eve of the most exciting day of Shiro’s life. He rubs his face and is horrified to find it wet.

"Allergies," Keith croaks out.  
  
Shiro laughs at him. Deep and kind. That big hand never wavers from his arm. He rubs it up and down until Keith’s skin is tingling. What can Keith say to him? A panic nestles beneath his ribs. This is it. _Thisisitthisisitthisis_ -  
  
"It's late," Shiro says. “Wanna stay the night?"  
  
_Oh_.

Keith’s eyes must widen comically because Shiro laughs at him. It’s not as if he hasn’t stayed the night before, but… this is different. He’s never been here while Adam wasn’t. He’s never been offered the bed that Shiro so graciously leads him to.

The bedroom is just as clean as everywhere else and Keith sits cross-legged on the quilt. This… this is a lot. Shiro is in the bathroom brushing his teeth and Keith is on his bed. His _bed_. The bed in which he sleeps.

And he’s wearing a set of Shiro’s sweatpants and an old t-shirt. They don’t fit Shiro anymore, he just keeps getting bigger - they certainly don’t fit Keith either. He cuffs the ankles of the pants anxiously tugs a stray thread.

Keith falls back onto the pillows and tries to breath. He turns his cheek and inhales - it’s a mistake. The sheets smell like Shiro, worn soft by his skin. Keith turns onto his side and smells them again. His stomach tightens. His cock twitches. He’s sandwiched between grief and want.

"You wanna brush your teeth?" Shiro asks, appearing at the door.

His voice is muffled by the brush poking from his cheek. Keith freezes, shoulders pulled up to his ears. Cautiously he turns around, tucking back his hair to hide his pink ears.

“I didn’t bring a brush with me,” Keith says.

Shiro shrugs. “You can use mine.”

Keith’s system crashes. It slowly reboots.

“What?”

Shiro’s smile thins into something mean. He pokes out his tongue and crudely scrubs his toothbrush across it. It’s intended to be funny, Keith thinks. It certainly makes him feel… _something_.

“Unless you’re afraid of cooties,” Shiro chuckles.

Keith presses his thighs tighter together. He wants Shiro’s cooties. He wants them so fucking bad.

“Shut up,” he snaps - and then after a moment, “Are you sure?”

Shiro ducks around the door to spit and when he comes back out he nods. He wipes his mouth with the collar of his shirt and hands Keith the freshly rinsed toothbrush.

“Of course I’m sure,” he says. “It’s just you, Keith.”

Keith’s not sure how to interpret that. He takes the toothbrush tentatively and shuffles awkward toward the bathroom. He closes the door and rests against it, forcing himself to calm down.

……………………………………………………………………………

  
  
Shiro’s on the bed when Keith comes out.

His arms are crossed behind his head and it makes him look huge. Keith hesitates at the door and curls his bare toes into the carpet. Its too intimate to see his best friend this way. Especially when he’s still licking the taste of Shiro’s toothpaste from his teeth.

Keith doesn’t think much of his own appearance but he feels especially small and daggy as he shuffles to the bed. Shiro pats the space beside him and Keith crawls on, doing his best to seem casual. To act as if he didn’t have a big, gay crush on the man beside him.

“Got a surprise for you,” Shiro says.

 _Calm down_ , Keith tells himself. _Exhale_. He tries not to react but Shiro always said he has an honest face. It’s mirrored in the way Shiro smiles, as if he likes whatever silly awe-struck expression just bloomed over Keith’s face.

“Lights out,” Shiro says - and the room goes black.

Keith flinches but Shiro finds him in the dark. He wriggles closer and there’s some jostling about, an arm worms its way under Keith’s head. Like a pillow. A pillow made of rock hard muscle. Keith’s head falls into the crook of Shiro’s arm and chest and it smells so fucking good he holds his breath.

“Look,” Shiro says.

It takes a moment for Keith’s eyes to adjust but when they do he laughs. The sound is punched from him, not only in humour but also in wonder. The entirety of the ceiling, from wall to wall, is dotted with glow-in-the-dark stars. The ones you’d find in children’s rooms - thousands of them. They bath the room in the softest nuclear-waste-green glow.

“How old are you?” Keith giggles.

But he’s happy. He thinks he remembers telling Shiro he had stars like this when he was a kid. He wouldn’t put it past Shiro to remember a silly thing like that - and to blow it out of proportion just to make Keith laugh. Shiro laughs too and it vibrates Keith’s entire body.

“It’s a path to Kerberos,” he says.

Keith’s mouth forms a circle. Shiro’s arm squeezes the side of his head as he bends it to point. His finger is barely visible in the faint light but Keith follows the movement. He’s right. The entirety of the mission has been painstakingly traced out in plastic stars.

“You made this?” Keith asks.

He feels Shiro nod. The man points at the furthest corner of the ceiling and Keith can hardly see a thing. He exhales, leaning his cheek against Shiro’s pectoral.

“That’s earth,” the man vibrates through his chest. “And our spacecraft next to it.”

Keith feels brave in the dark so he turns a little on his side and rests his arm across Shiro’s chest. His hand remains in a ball, too nervous to touch.

“How long did it take you?”

Keith’s head shakes when Shiro laughs.

“I started when Adam left me,” he admits. “I just… I needed a distraction.”

Something brushes the top of Keith’s head and it makes goosebumps blossom down his nape. Fingers smooth the cowlick of black hair around his crown.

“I thought you could follow the mission,” Shiro says. “If you wanted.”

“You… want me to visit your apartment?”

Shiro fidgets for a moment and then returns with something cool and plastic. He touches it to Keith’s knuckles and it takes the boy a moment to realise what it is. It’s the key to Shiro’s apartment. Keith is frozen, urging his heart to crawl down from where its wormed into his throat.

"I can stay here?" He asks softly.  
  
Shiro snorts and his warm breath hits Keith's cheek.  
  
"Duh."

Suddenly this feeling Keith has is too big for his chest. Shiro thought of him. Shiro did this for him. And it doesn’t take away the hurt he feels when he thinks of how long Shiro will be gone - but it calms him. He has this. A safe place. A map. A way to trace Shiro’s path amongst the stars.

They talk for a long time. Mostly about silly things - the important stuff goes unspoken as if not to spoil a perfect night. Keith doesn’t move from his place against Shiro’s chest but eventually they both shift onto their sides so they can face one another. The clock ticks over midnight and Keith realises it’s today.

Shiro leaves today.

Keith’s eyes have adjusted well enough that he can see Shiro’s face move as he speaks. His eyes closed some time ago and his voice is a little rough with fatigue. His arm stays beneath Keith’s head and the boy is grateful for it. A braver version of himself would turn his cheek and kiss the skin.

Shiro’s sentences grow further and further apart, lagging. He yawns and Keith can taste the toothpaste from his breath. Eventually he doesn’t reply at all, a soft snore fills the quiet, black room.

Keith doesn’t sleep.

Can’t.

He lays there and he watches Shiro’s face, the edges illuminated by the stars. He is handsome. Painfully handsome. Keith reaches out and ghosts his finger along the line of his square jaw. If their roles were reversed and it was Keith leaving for Kerberos, he knows exactly what Shiro would say to him.

 _Go. Be great_.

Keith is not that selfless yet. He wriggles closer and he enjoys the last moments he has with Shiro. He tucks his head under the man’s jaw and pretends that he belongs there.

Keith can’t sleep. He won’t.

……………………………………………………………………………

Keith wakes with a start.

The bedroom is still black and the bed beside him is empty. Keith is dumb with sleep, confused. He jerks upright and his hand splays across Shiro’s side of the bed. It’s still warm, like he only just left. A terrible sadness wells up in Keith’s chest.

“Shiro?” He says, and his voice cracks.

It echoes throughout the empty room and Keith’s heavy breathing is all he gets in response. He sobs, dragging his knees up to his chest.

“Keith?”

A strip of light appears on the wall. Keith blinks the big, fat tears out of his lashes and realises its the bathroom door. It slides open a little further and then Shiro appears, his brows lowered in concern.

“You okay?”

Keith’s heart takes a moment to catch up with his brain.

“I thought-”

He cuts himself off. He wipes his face and makes a pathetic attempt at a nonchalant laugh. It doesn’t work and he sniffles, hunching further in on himself.

“You didn’t wake me up,” he says.

Normally Shiro would roll his eyes. Make a joke. Say Keith sleeps like the dead and he _tried_ to wake him. Bring up that one time Keith accidentally kicked him while he was sleeping. But he doesn’t joke this morning and when he steps out of the bathroom Keith sees why.

Shiro’s dressed in uniform.

He looks good. Really good. It’s a privilege to see him freshly shaven with his hair slicked back. Dressed like all eyes will be on him - because they will be. He’s backlit with the bathroom light but the rest of the room is dark. If Keith squints he can see the red line of dawn on the horizon.

This is real.

It’s happening.

“How do I look?” Shiro whispers.

He smoothes out his jacket and for the first time Keith realises the man is nervous. This is a big deal for him. A huge deal. Shiro’s sacrificed up so much to be here. He even gave up Adam. Keith wets his mouth before he answers.

“You look ready,” he says.

Shiro nods. He is. His shoes are polished and his toiletries are all packed up. Keith knows he has to go and he wants to get up and throw his arms around him but he can’t move. He can’t even breath. He doesn’t realised he’s started to cry until Shiro sits next to him and cups his face between his hands.

“Hey,” he says softly. “Hey now, come on.”

Keith's breath catches on his tears and he tries to hold them in but he can't. He pushes himself into Shiro's chest and he _clings_. He smells cologne and aftershave and Shiro's skin, and two big arms wrap just as tightly around his back. Shiro's face presses into Keith's throat and he takes a big breath, rubbing his thumbs down the divots of his spine.  
  
_Don't go_ , Keith thinks. _Please don't go_.

"I'll be back before you know it," Shiro lies.  
  
Keith nods anyway, bravely puts his hand on Shiro’s nape and feels his fresh, new shave. _I love you_ , he thinks. _I love you so much_. He sobs harder, embarrassed - he can't let go.  
  
"I'll be back," Shiro says again, and he eases back a little.

Keith's heart begins to break but Shiro doesn't go far. He reaches into his jacket and takes his dog tags off. He carefully loops them around Keith’s neck and the cool metal sits in the hollow of his throat.  
  
"Mind these for me, yeah?"  
  
Keith curls his hands around the tags. They’re already wet with his tears. He nods furiously and resists lifting the metal to his mouth for a kiss.

"Shiro," he says in his most pathetic voice.

Shiro cleans his tears with his thumbs. He carefully appraises Keith, a small frown on his lovely face. He tucks back his hair, smooths it into place, treats him so fucking carefully. No one’s ever treated Keith this way before and makes him cry harder. He won’t be loved this way for years.

He feels so small with his head cradled in both Shiro’s hands, wearing his clothes and his dog tags, sitting in his bed. Small but protected. He sniffles, trying to blink back his tears. Shiro wipes them diligently, still studying his face.

Then his best friend leans in and kisses Keith on the mouth.

Keith’s world stops.

Shiro’s hand is against his cheek and his lips are against his own. It’s a gentle and a chaste thing. His lips are closed but they’re smooth and full. It makes Keith’s chest explode, makes his hand clench around the fabric of Shiro’s uniform.

Shiro is kissing him.

Keith has never been kissed before and now _Shiro_ is kissing him. His best friend. The only man he's ever loved. It makes Keith feel so good he thinks he'll be sick. He doesn't breath in case he ruins things, just trembles and tries to keep his mouth still.

Keith's sure his hands are shaking. His heart crawls into his throat and his eyelashes dampen with new tears. Shiro holds him so carefully and the gentle touch sparks a pang of doubt in Keith. _This is platonic_ , he thinks - this kiss.  
  
Like everything Shiro does for him. The shared toothbrush, the map of stars, the things Shiro's done out of friendship but have shaken Keith's world because of how deeply he loves this man.  
  
Why should this kiss be any different? A parting gift between two friends. Keith is just a secondhand kid from the Garrison. He's not someone Takashi Shirogane kisses, not in a meaningful way - and Keith's convinces himself this kiss means more to him than it does to Shiro until -  
  
Until Shiro opens his mouth and touches his tongue against Keith's lips.

Something wet and warm ripples up Keith's spine. It bends his back, makes him push forward with all the finesse of a teenager. Shiro tilts his head and presses his thumb, painfully gentle, against Keith's teeth until he obediently opens his mouth for him.

Shiro’s tongue tastes a little of toothpaste, but mostly like warm muscle and its electrifying. The tentative, slick push behind his teeth is the most erotic thing to ever happen to him and his stomach tumbles over and over trying to keep up with that touch.

Keith whines, an embarrassing noise but it's knee-jerk. Shiro tips his head back a little and their tongues touch. Keith just... just lets him. Opens his mouth and lets Shiro steal his first kiss, and honestly he can take anything else he finds in there too.

It's dark and it's silent and it's everything Keith could have hoped for. He doesn't know how to kiss but he wriggles closer and submits to it, anything Shiro wants. He feels safe, one hand cradling his jaw and the other at the back of his head. He’s molten, he is putty. He finally closes his eyes and goes lax in Shiro’s arms.

His heart skips when Shiro gives his tongue a little suck, and Keith wonders how something can feel so sweet and so filthy all at once. He wants to shift closer. He wants to open his legs across Shiro’s lap. He’s had dreams like this - nasty things he guilts himself for having.  
  
Then the kiss stops.  
  
Shiro pulls back and his brow and nose align with Keith's. He's breathing heavy, his big chest swells beneath his uniform. When he blinks his eyelashes catch on Keith’s.

"Are you coming to the launch?" He asks, his voice low and sticky.  
  
Keith needs a moment to calm down. He needs a moment for his heart to sink back into his chest. He’s floating, he needs to come down. But he's all out of moments - the red dawn line bleeding upward and pink, beckoning the threat of sunrise.

"Y-yeah," he manages, shell-shocked.  
  
Shiro is so close that Keith can hardly see him. Post-kiss, his heart begins to erode. _No no no_. His hands clench into fabric. _Don't go. Not now_. He presses closer and his nose aches as it bends to accommodate Shiro’s.  
  
He feels the man take hold of his wrists and he knows Shiro is going to make him let go. A new cry bubbles up into Keith’s throat. Shiro gently eases him away, rubs tiny circles into the centre of his wrists. When he lets go Keith's arms fall to his sides, defeated.  
  
"Be good," Shiro whispers to him.  
  
And he takes Keith's face once more and plants a firm, damp kiss to his forehead. It lingers and for its entirety Keith's heart doesn't beat. His closes his eyes and curls his fingers into nothingness.

Shiro's hands leave first.

Then his lips.

Then the mattress rises as his weight leaves it and Keith pitches forward a little in his absence. He doesn’t open his eyes. He listens as the front door of the apartment opens, and a moment passes before it closes again. Keith stays kneeling on the bed in the same place Shiro has left him, the bathroom light still on.

Keith doesn’t want to open his eyes again.

He blindly finds the blankets and he pushes his face into them, allowing the tears to come. He sobs. His shoulders shake. He curls into himself and he stays there until his throat and eyes hurt. Until he’s sure there’s no tears left inside of him to cry.

Keith stays there, hidden, until sunlight kisses his skin.

……………………………………………………………………………

The launch is a private but grand affair.

Keith goes as promised. He dresses in his cadet uniform and he does his best to comb his hair. He is Shiro’s only family. His only person. He’s listed as his next-of-kin too and that means something to Keith. He’s allowed to wait where the family of the crew waits, and it’s just him and a woman, and a little girl.

They look as sad as Keith feels but there’s smiles on their faces. Keith understands. It’s an exciting day and some things are more important than family, than love. Keith slips his fingers into his shirt and touches Shiro’s tags. Beneath his uniform he wears the oversized t-shirt he borrowed too.

The entrance to the spacecraft is too high up for them to see. The pilots appear as little specks and Keith knows the largest one is Shiro. There’s a camera set up by the entrance and it flickers to life, a grainy image of the three pilots. They enter the ship one by one, turning to give the camera a small wave before they board.

Shiro boards last.

He pauses by the entrance like the other two have and he looks into the camera. Keith clutches the dog tags in his fist. _It’s me_ , Keith realises. _He’s looking at me_.

Shiro lingers and Keith wants to put his fingers against the screen, to touch his grainy face. But his emotions are too fragile, too misunderstood. He keeps them locked inside himself and savours the salute and confident smile Shiro gives to the camera. It makes the boy’s heart gallop. He is hurting so deeply but mostly he is proud.

So, so proud. Shiro is making history.

Then the man turns and he is gone, and the ship is sealed up. Keith stays for the entirety of it. His throat closes as he watches the shuttle launch into the sky. He holds his breath as the cloud trail thins out as they get higher, and higher, and eventually they disappear. There’s a collective sigh from ground control. The two women in the room with him turn and hold each other.

Keith waits alone, looking up until the sky turns blue.

……………………………………………………………………………

_No dawn, no day, I'm always in this twilight  
In the shadow of your heart_


	2. Chapter 2

_And in the dark I can hear your heartbeat  
I tried to find the sound_

Keith eats alone in Shiro's living room.

Each night he brings his Garrison-issued dinner back to the apartment and lets himself in. He takes off his shoes at the door and he eats on the couch. He puts on a movie that he doesn’t really watch - but the background noise fools him into thinking someone’s home.

Some nights Keith can pretend Shiro is right there beside him. The flavourless cafeteria noodles. A ring of condensation on the counter from a soda can. One night Keith checks the freezer and finds a tub of choc chip ice-cream. He’s never liked it that much but it was Shiro’s favourite - especially on the nights when he and Adam fought.

Keith finds himself eating the entire tub but the hole in his stomach doesn’t fill.

At the end of the first week Keith takes a chair from the kitchen and drags it to Shiro’s bedroom. He stands on it, barefoot and tip-toed, and carefully peels the rocket shaped sticker from the ceiling. He takes his time to examine the path to Kerberos before placing the sticker a few inches away from “earth”. Then Keith leans up as high as he can and kisses the little rocket.

Instantly he feels silly.

Keith quickly gets down, his face pink. He puts the chair back where he found it, not that it matters. He undresses and wears the same sweatpants and t-shirt he borrowed from Shiro. Each night he carefully pulls back the covers and lays on the left side. Adam’s side.

And then, with the lights out and no one to see him, Keith rolls over and places his nose against Shiro’s pillow. He breaths it in and for the first time all day he is comforted. The smell won’t last two years but it’s here tonight - and Keith falls asleep with his nose tucked to the fabric.

In the morning he makes the bed like he was never there.  
  
Every Friday he takes out the kitchen chair. Every Friday he moves the rocket sticker a little further away from earth. Some nights he lays on the carpet and stares up at the glow-in-the-dark stares and he feels jealous. He thinks of the day he'll get to see the stars himself. He thinks of how excited his dad would feel knowing his son was in space. And that thought makes him cry, rubbed raw and lonely.  
  
Keith hates to feel sorry for himself but it's hard not to, all alone with his Garrison-issued noodles.  
  
Keith studies. He works hard. He tries his best in Shiro's absence because he knows this is what he'd want. He ignores James. He stays out of fights. He won't fuck up - Shiro told him to be good. A month after the launch Keith is standing on the chair in the bedroom again. The rocket sticker is a long way from home, halfway to Kerberos.  
  
Keith leans up on his tiptoes and kisses his nose against the stars.  
  
He goes to sleep in Shiro's bed. He showers with his soap. He wears the borrowed pants and top and leans over to smell his pillow. It's all but gone and the absence leaves a hunger inside Keith.

……………………………………………………………………………

  
  
Keith is in a lecture when the call comes.

He’s scribbling in his margin, a mess of ink-blue stars, when he hears his name.

"Kogane."

All eyes turn to Keith. He flinches. It's silent and when he looks up he can see Iverson waiting at the door of the classroom. Keith's heart sinks. He slowly stands up and makes his way through the dozens of staring students.  
  
"You're in trouble," sing-songs some skinny kid that Keith can't recall the name of.

_Luke? Laurent?_ He ignores the whispered giggles and shrinks inward on himself. Even Iverson stares down on Keith like he is just an ant. The man says nothing as he walks Keith from the classroom - but the boy knows what this is about.  
  
Shiro's apartment - they know he's staying there. They're going to take away his key. Keith feels sick as he follows Iverson through the halls. They make a left and Keith perks up. This is a classified section of the Garrison and he's never been here before. His heart skips a beat when Iverson opens a door that reads Communications.  
  
Inside its dark and the people inside are illuminated by a big screen. Keith recognises the silhouettes of the woman and the girl from the launch. On the screen is a kind-eyed man Keith has seen before. He's speaking but there's no sound - the little girl is wearing a headset and chatting excitedly to him.  
  
Keith's throat gets tight as he realises why they've called him in here.

"Kogane," they say again.

They usher him forward to take the little girl's headset when she is done. The kind-eyed man waves goodbye and steps away from the camera. Keith steps in front of the screen, shining bright and illuminating dust particles. He tries to clear his throat but he can't speak. His hands clench and go clammy, the microphone picks up his shaking breath.  
  
"Keith."  
  
Shiro's face appears on the big screen, eyes soft and smile strong. Immediately Keith's eyes begin to glass. Heat wells up in his chest and his heart breaks open and spills sticky sweet for all the room to see. Keith crushes the heel of his hand against his eyes to push the tears back in.

"S-Shiro," he stammers.  
  
He shivers when Shiro's laugh purrs through the private headset.

"How's my best guy doing?"  
  
Keith knows this is only fleeting and he shouldn't ruin it by crying. He gulps back the waves of emotion he is feeling. It's been a month without Shiro's voice. Without that big smile beaming down on him. It’s rough and he’s aware there’s eyes on him.  
  
"I'm fine," Keith lies.

The skin around Shiro's eyes always creases when he sees through Keith's lies. But what is he supposed to say? _It's killing me when you're away_. He can't. Iverson is there and a handle of strangers too. Keith can't forget, even if it's feels like it's only him and Shiro in this moment.  
  
"Are you being good?” Shiro asks.  
  
It shocks a laugh out of Keith.  
  
"Yes," he snaps, defensive. “Are _you?_ "  
  
Shiro laughs again and it's like electricity in Keith's chest. Even on the grainy screen Shiro looks good. He's weightless, every so often floating out of focus before easing himself back down. His hair bobs away from his face and its silly enough to make them both giggle.  
  
"Look, Keith."  
  
Shiro takes the camera and guides it to the window of their spacecraft. Keith's breath catches. Space is an infinite void - and there's a planet outside the glass. It swirls with nectarine-orange gas and speckles of blue. Shiro points beyond it at a speck on the horizon.  
  
"That's earth," Shiro says. "I'm looking at you right now!"

His nose bumps against the glass and Keith laughs again. He's never laughed while his face was sticky with tears before. Seeing Shiro so happy in space curbs some of the hurt the boy’s been saddled with.  
  
"I'm looking at you too," he tells him.   
  
"You'd love it up here, Keith."

Keith nods earnestly. He trusts Shiro. Shiro knows what he would love. He steps closer to the screen and his fingers dance through the dust. He wants to touch. He wants to be wrapped up in a holographic hug.  
  
"I'm sending some pictures through," Shiro explains.

He glances down as he taps away at a screen. Keith admires the little details of him, the thick of his throat where his bodysuit begins. The downward swoop of his eyelashes.

"I wish I could be there," Keith blurts.

He doesn't mean to - it just slips out. He covers his mouth. Shiro, without missing a beat, glances up and nods.  
  
"Next time," he promises.  
  
Keith's heart combusts. _Next time_.  
  
Shiro sees the smile on Keith's face and he mirrors it, leaning back in to the camera. He raises an eyebrow, his voice cocky. It does something to Keith’s stomach and feels far too intimate for Iverson and the other pilots’ family to be watching.  
  
"Let me have my moment," Shiro chuckles. "Can't let some spitfire hotshot outshine this old timer just yet."  
  
Keith beams.

“Whatever you say, golden boy.”  
  
When the calls ends it hurts but Keith can live with it.

He's promised another communication in a month's time once the crew settles on the surface of Kerberos. Keith leaves the Communications room with dewy eyes and a data pad full of photos from Shiro. He rushes back to the man’s apartment so he can look at them, his chest tingling. He can’t forget the way Shiro looked at him.

The photos flitter between silly and beautiful. Sunsets taken miles above. The delicate rotation of the earth. Pluto growing larger and larger. Shiro trying to catch food in his mouth in zero gravity. His massive shoulders crammed into a little bed. Keith laughs alone in the bedroom, carefully touching the screen where Shiro’s face is.

In every photo the man is grinning. Shiro's is living his dreams. Keith loves him all the more for it. He lays back against the bed and brings up a simple portrait Shiro’s taken overlooking the earth below. He’s more serious in this one. Keith’s breath catches.

Keith forces himself to exhale.

There’s a warm, liquid sensation in his tummy and he’s felt it time and time again. He brushes his free hand across his stomach, lifts up his shirt to feel the soft of his skin. When he swallows there’s a peach pit in his throat. He squeezes his thighs together.

_Are you being good?_

Keith trembles. His fingers inch down from his navel and brush the hem of his leggings. He is being good. Very good. He’d do anything for Shiro’s approval.

_You’re my good boy_ , Shiro would say.

Keith’s already hard and damp between the legs, so eager. He imagines Shiro laughing at him, kindly, telling him he’s too young and inexperienced for this. That he wouldn’t even know what to do with a man like Shiro.

It’s true, Keith thinks.

If Shiro is the sun Keith is just a flower. Helpless to his pull. Each day he faces toward him and follows his path across the sky. He blooms because of Shiro. He thrives with his warm touch. And if Shiro were to come any closer to Keith he’s sure he’d wither.

He’s incompatible - an organic thing quickly ruined by a heavenly body.

Keith cups his hand around his cock and squeezes. It’s a lot, laying on the man’s bed and wriggling in his sheets. Wearing his clothes. Using his shampoo. He’s being good. So, so good. He slips his hand beneath the fabric and ignores his aching dick.

Shiro would have other plans for him.

Keith whines as his fingers graze his hole. He’s touched himself there before, even pressed the tip of his finger inside himself. Its what he likes. Likes the burn of being opened. Every time he imagines its Shiro - and its an art not to cum when he’s breached.

Keith sobs out a moan he should be ashamed of. He tucks his middle finger inside himself, it’s dry and tight and he milks it instantly. He thinks Shiro would be firm with him, not cruel. He thinks Shiro would know a lot of ways to touch him between the legs.

He’s a walking legend at the Garrison. Keith’s heard rumours from before he was with Adam. That he’s big - but that’s not surprising. Everything about Shiro is big. Keith’s also heard he’s voracious. People said that’s why he and Adam broke up. Adam couldn’t handle that sort of appetite.

Keith knows that isn’t true but it makes him think.

He rubs his cock against the inside of his wrist, curls his finger inward to the place he likes best. He’s whimpering at this point, his lust and grief so tightly wound together. He turns his face into the pillows and breaths in the scent of Shiro.

_Patience_ , Shiro chuckles in his head.

Keith yowls. He has an appetite too. Competitive. He could keep up with Shiro. Match his libido stroke for stroke. Keith dips his finger in and out of himself and imagines its the man’s much larger, wider finger.

“ _Uhhn_ , ohh fuck!”

He’s damp with sweat, wrist wet where his cock leaks against it. The room smells like adrenaline, like teenage want. Keith’s sick on it, messier than usual. He fingers himself with a mean push, shocks himself and bites the pillowcase.

“Shiro!” He sobs.

He chokes on a cocktail of love and anger and loneliness, of obsessive want. Did Shiro fuck Adam on these sheets? Did he ever hope that he was Keith? Did they ever want him there with them? Keith’s thought of it, he’d do anything to be close to Shiro.

He’s on his stomach when he cums, feels his hole clamp down around his finger. He lifts his spine and bends his back like a cat in heat. Knows Shiro would be pleased with that. Knows the man would want to fuck him on his knees.

It _hurts_ when his orgasm rips through him. Keith gasps, he shudders forward and his cheek crushes to the sheets. Shame twists his stomach as he cums on it, and god he wants to pull his finger from himself but he _can’t_. It’s too tight. It clamps tighter when he imagines Shiro making fun of it.

_So hungry_ , he would taunt.

Keith doesn’t even try to deny it.

……………………………………………………………………………

  
  
Keith works harder.

He works better.

He wants to make Shiro breathless with his progress. Proud. James taunts him and Keith ignores it. He eats lunch alone - he shuts it all out. If he’s good he’ll get to hear Shiro’s voice in a month’s time.

Keith continues to move the glow-in-the-dark rocket across the ceiling. It’s his obsessive ritual, and he kisses it with each inch it moves. Some nights he turns off the lights and lays beneath it. Other nights he fingers himself in Shiro’s bed.

His life revolves around the man.

The crew lands on Kerberos in the middle of the night. Its a success, the Garrison is very happy. There’s a festive mood amongst the halls. Keith wakes to a grainy photograph of the moon’s surface and a bulky peace sign from a marshmallow-like figure he assumes is Shiro. It’s surreal to watch him walk around on the surface, his grin visible through the Garrison-orange visor.

It won’t be long until he can speak to Shiro again. He knows the man is busy. Knows it’ll take a week to set up a stable connection. Maybe longer. It’s okay - Keith’s been patient so far. He’s been good.

And that’s why its a surprise when Iverson comes to fetch him on a Thursday afternoon.

Its much sooner than expected but Keith doesn’t complain. He practically floats to the Communications room. He wonders if Shiro will be able to see his progress just from his posture. Keith’s proud of himself - he can only imagine how his best friend will feel.

But they don’t go to the Communications room.

Shiro always said Keith has animal-like instincts. Keith’s not sure if he agrees but he’s always been sensitive to these things. He knew something was wrong the day his father died.

He knows something is wrong today.

Keith stops walking.

“Keep it moving, cadet.”

Keith realises that Iverson hasn’t looked at him. The man pauses a few paces ahead of Keith but keeps his head down. Keith’s stomach sinks. He isn’t stepping foot inside that room.

“What’s going on?” Keith whispers.

Iverson turns his head a little and Keith sees he looks… he’s pale. Drained of blood. The edges of his eyes are red. Its not a surprise to Keith, he could sense this shift, but he feels devastated. Something’s wrong. Something’s bad.

“What’s going on!” Keith shouts when he doesn’t get an answer.

Iverson turns and Keith steps back. The man grabs his arm but it only makes the boy more feral. He thrashes, frightened. His boot squeaks as it slides against the floor. He needs to go. He needs to leave. He needs to run away because the Garrison walls are closing in around him.

“Kogane,” comes a calmer voice.

The door to the room opens. Not the Communications room, no. Keith doesn’t want to go inside. He can see a long table and fluorescent lights and he knows these things never been good news. He struggles in Iverson’s grip and they let him go, exchange whispers. They treat Keith like a wild creature.

“He should know,” someone says.

Keith wants to throw up. Something flickers from inside the room, a holographic screen. Keith finds himself forced inside - not by the hands of strangers but by the dread mounting in his chest. It’s dead silent as he enters the room.

Shiro’s face is on the screen.

From a photograph taken the day they launched, his hair slicked into place and a million dollar smile on his mouth. The same mouth he’d kissed Keith with. There’s two faces beside his, the other pilots. Everyone in the room has their heads down.

“No,” Keith says.

This isn’t happening. Someone touches his shoulder, tries to comfort him. Keith jerks away. He doesn’t want comfort! He wants Shiro. He stumbles toward the projection of the man he loves and his fingers fall through the light.

“No!” He screams.

_Pilot error_.

That’s what they tell him. But it’s not the truth, Keith knows. Shiro would _never_ make a mistake - not when other lives were involved. He tells them that. He shouts it. He shouts a lot of things. He makes a scene - his entire world is corroding around him.

“He’s going into shock,” someone says.

Like Keith isn’t even in the room. The boy is red hot and damp, weightless, and he’s never cried in front of strangers but he’s sobbing now. He’s like molten metal, sinking to the floor, and his cries are embarrassing but they are heartfelt.

The room goes blurry around the edges.

A blackness descends on Keith. Grief. Fear. The impending weight of a broken heart. More hands touch him and this time he can’t fight them off. Everything feels like an effort. Not even breathing seems worth the fight anymore.

Keith’s knees give out. He stumbles to the side and hits a warm chest.

“Shiro?” He asks, confused.

There are voices all around, hands supporting his failing limbs. A hand cradles the back of his head as his legs collapse and the boy falls to the floor. His spine hits the carpet, his legs tuck under himself. Shiro’s ghostly image continues to flicker on the screen.

……………………………………………………………………………

Time passes strangely after that.

It’s not the same as when his dad died. Shiro's face is on every screen at the Garrison and his name is on the mouths of every cadet. Keith doesn't leave his room for three days and he doesn't visit Shiro's apartment. He doesn’t shower. He doesn't eat. Keith’s left in limbo, alone and hurting.

He doesn't know what to do.  
  
Keith only comes out when he can no longer ignoring the gnawing of his stomach. He knows he doesn't look good. He knows his face is ash white and there are shadows beneath his eyes. Keith's name is whispered just as much as Shiro's so he takes his food back to his quarters. He manages an apple and a few forkfuls of pasta that tastes like cardboard. He throws it all back up after an hour.  
  
 _Pilot error_.  
  
Keith opens his data pad and flicks through the photos Shiro sent him. He touches the screen and traces the line of Shiro's mouth. He brings the screen to his nose and inhales like he might smell him. It's just static, clinging to the fine peach fuzz of his cheeks.  
  
"Shiro," he whispers.  
  
It's like Keith's world has stopped - but nothing stops with him.

He’s left in jet lag, a permanent disbelief that Shiro is dead. He doesn’t go to class and he doesn’t look after himself. Every cell in his body is dedicated to waiting, watching. To staring at the pixelated version of Shiro’s face and hoping he’ll materialise if Keith wishes hard enough.

The world rolls onward and eventually there comes a day when Keith can no longer hide in his room. His uniform is crumpled and in a pile by the door, the exact place he left it the day that Shiro died. He smoothes it out and irons it. He puts on his boots and laces them. He washes the salt tracks from his cheeks.

When he rejoins his classes no one says a thing but Keith can feel the weight of their eyes. He goes to the flight simulator and tries to tune it out. It’s the first time in history that Keith Kogane hasn’t made it past the second level. Several students break his score but the boy can’t bring himself to care.

"Someone's off their game," James whispers.  
  
Keith hugs his own waist and stares at a crack in the floor.

"Leave him alone," says a kinder voice. "He's upset.”

There’s more murmuring, whispers. Keith wants to escape to his room again. He stays frozen to the wall instead, inwardly combusting.

“We’re all upset,” someone snaps. “Everyone looked up to Takashi.”

A snicker comes from James and it raises Keith’s hackles. He squeezes his fists so tight his nails break the skin.

"Yeah, we all looked up to him," James echoes.

He does a poor job at keeping his voice down. There’s a smile in his voice, too. It’s like he wants Keith to hear what he's about to say.

"But we weren't the ones fucking him."

One moment Keith's squeezing his fists. The next moment he's got James Griffin on his back and he's hitting him so hard his knuckles bleed. It feels _good_.  
  
There's screaming. People shout. There's a sharp pain in Keith's ribs and suddenly he's the one on his back. He doesn't feel the fist that snaps his nose. He doesn't feel anything outside of white hot rage. He digs his nails into James skin. He drags him down and bites him. He’s going to tear the boy to pieces just like the feral cat everyone always says he is.  
  
There's a definitive scream, high-pitched. Keith clamps his jaw down until he tastes hot blood. James lets go of his hair. The screaming is coming from him. Keith jerks his head up and James is dripping from the nose, teeth marks either side of it.

Hands pull Keith away. Big ones, drag him off James and throw him to the floor. All Keith tastes is blood. Its all he sees, too. James lays bloody on the floor and Keith bares his teeth. He feels pleased when everyone flinches, steps away from him.

There’s nothing more fearsome than a trapped animal.

……………………………………………………………………………

There’s no one to bail Keith out this time

He waits outside the Admiral’s office, holding an icy cloth to his nose. It’s probably broken, that’s okay. James’s is worse - Keith near bit his whole nose off.

He knows no one is going to come save him. Shiro’s not going to step in. Shiro’s gone.  
  
Keith doesn't listen to what they say to him. He's already made up his mind. He can't do this without Shiro. He can't be great without him. He knows they expel him, he expected it. He stares right through the eyes that judge him and feels nothing. When it’s over Keith goes back to Shiro's room.  
  
It's the first time that he's visited since the news broke. Seeing the map of stars makes him ache. Keith sits on the carpet and glares at them, hateful tears washing blood off his cheeks.  
  
He's so angry. So, so mad. He hates that rocket-shaped sticker and he hates Shiro for leaving him. His face screws up in agony and his nose begins to drip again. Keith buries his head between his knees and doesn't hear the door to Shiro's apartment unlock.

When footsteps click across the kitchen tiles Keith jerks his head up.

“Shiro?” He says.

That’s the only one that it could be. Keith’s heart crawls into his throat and he sits up on his knees. He’s not sure his pulse beats once as he waits for the bedroom door to open. He deflates when Adam steps into the room.

The man exhales, looking down at Keith. He sits on the carpet near him and drags his knees up to his chest.

“When I saw the lights on I thought it might be him,” Adam says, and he gives a sad sort of laugh.

Keith says nothing. He curls in on himself and wipes his blood nose. Adam touches his leg, gently, and encourages him to lift his head.

“You’re hurt,” he says.

Keith turns his head away. He doesn't want Adam to be kind to him. Without a word Adam helps Keith to his feet and cleans his nose. Keith cries silently throughout. He is hungry and he is sad. His hands hurt so badly he can't even move them. The kindness stings.  
  
"What are you doing in here?" Adam asks. "He gave you a key, right? I thought he would."

Adam's eyes flick to the ceiling and he notices the stars. He laughs, a soft and nostalgic sound. Keith notices Adam has tears in his eyes.  
  
"He really cared about you," Adam says.  
  
"Cares," Keith corrects, throat sticky with blood.

He doesn't like how everyone talks in past tense. Adam looks at him, finishes up with his nose and shifts Keith's hair off his forehead. It's matted and ugly, he needs a shower. Adam frowns, dropping his hand. The pity on his face is clear.  
  
"The funeral is on Tuesday," he says.   
  
Keith's heart cracks.  
  
“Funeral?"  
  
"Yes, at the-"

"He isn't dead," Keith says.

He’s not sure where this thought came from but suddenly its the only thing he knows. Shiro isn’t dead. Can’t be. Just the same as how the sun cannot be extinguished. Adam freezes, and then he slowly shakes his head. More pity. So much pity Keith could drown in it.  
  
“How can they have a funeral without a body?” Keith asks, his throat closing up.  
  
"Keith-"  
  
"He's not dead," Keith repeats. "He isn’t."

Adam sighs and stops talking. They both sit there in silence, in the wake of a man they both love. Keith looks up at the path of stars and drags his knees toward his chest.  
  
 _Be good_ , Shiro said to him.  
  
The only thing he asked of him. Keith couldn't even do that.

"Keith, is there anything I can do for you?"  
  
Keith drops his head. There's a spot of blood on the carpet. The bed is made like Shiro's never lived here. There's no possessions, anything of importance is in a shoe box in Keith's room. This room will close up like a tomb. Dust will gather on Shiro’s things and no one will care.  
  
"Can you take me home?" Keith asks him.

Adam nods, but neither move right away. They sit in the silence of Shiro’s empty home and they hold onto the last tendrils of his memory.

……………………………………………………………………………

  
  
Keith hasn't been home since his father died.

Adam lingers in his car and casts his eyes over the unimpressive shack. Keith lingers too, keys in hand. All he carries is a duffel bag of clothes and Shiro’s possessions.

“Do you want me to stay?” Adam asks, uncertain.

Keith shakes his head. He doesn’t want anymore pity-coated kindness. He doesn’t want to sit with the man who gave up on Shiro. He knows its an unkind thought but its the only thought Keith has capacity for.

“What are you going to do?” Adam says.

“I’m going to find him,” Keith replies.

There’s a long silence. Keith doesn’t look at Adam, he knows what he’ll see. He gives a quiet thank you to the man and he steps toward the shack, hoping Adam will just leave. He pretends to fumble with the keys even though he only holds one. As the door cracks open he hears Adam finally drive away.

Inside there’s a thin layer of dust on everything but otherwise its exactly how Keith left it. The boy makes a little nest for himself. He takes out the few things he took from his and Shiro’s rooms. The Polaroid they took not far from here. A few notes. The borrowed pair of sweatpants.

Keith keeps the glow-in-the-dark rocket sticker inside a box, not ready to look at it yet.

The first night is terrible. His dad’s bed is too comfortable and it carries its own ghosts. Keith cries softly in the dark for the men he’s lost. No one loves him, he thinks. No one would know if he died out in this desert.

There’s a shotgun beneath his daddy’s bed and Keith holds it for a little bit. He… he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t do anything, he knows. Even though its the only thing he can think about. He just wants to sit with it. Imagine it. Would it hurt? Would he find his way to Shiro?

But the thoughts are so painful Keith can’t take it. That’s where he falls asleep, curled up on the foot of his father’s mattress like some small, forgotten dog.

……………………………………………………………………………

A year passes.  
  
And all the while Keith is haunted by the ghost of Shiro. At first he thinks he'll come back. He tunes into the Garrison radio and awaits his return. There's been a mistake, he thinks he'll hear. The crew is alive and well.  
  
But as the weeks turn into months, and the months turn into winter, Keith spends the cold season by himself and stops listening for news of Shiro.  
  
Each night he sits out on the porch, swathed in a blanket. He imagines Shiro appearing amongst the cacti, a miracle. He imagines his phone ringing and his warm, kind voice on the other end. He thinks about a gentle touch on his shoulder, glancing up to see Shiro standing next to him.  
  
But he never comes. No one does.

It hurts to look at pictures of Shiro but he forces himself to do it. Its driving him insane, slowly forgetting how the man smelt or what his laugh sounded like. He wished he took more videos, that he catalogued their time. But he thought they had forever. He thought they both were deathless.

Keith often falls asleep on the porch. And it snows sometimes, he wakes cold and damp. Maybe one night he’ll fall asleep and he’ll never wake up. Some days he doesn’t even eat. He’s not sure what he’s doing out here. Maybe he came to die? The world is moving on without Shiro and Keith wants nothing to do with it.

The snow melts. The desert thaws.

Spring flowers push through dead dirt. It rains and it rains, and still no one comes. Keith lays in bed and listens to rain patter on the tin roof. He thinks of Shiro laying in the bed with him, tracing lines against his back. Its funny how his dream life is so similar to this dreary, dark existence. Its only missing Shiro.

An energy comes with the spring.

It’s a vibration, something that Keith’s felt since he was young. A calling. Something that only lives where people don’t. He doesn’t pay it much attention, its always been there. He tries to ignore it but as the days get warmer the calling grows stronger.

_I’m going insane_ , Keith thinks. _Too much time alone_.

The same thing happened to his father. He became convinced the vibrations were Keith’s mother. That she was trying to speak to him. The energy is not malicious and its not hard to mistake it for a loving call. After months of solitude its almost… welcome.

It speaks to Keith. It draws him outside. It leads him into empty canyons and it pushes him to maps. Keith doesn’t know what he’s looking for but he begins to look.

He pins a canyon-land map to the wall of his living room. He sticks the glow-in-the-dark rocket sticker to the corner. He leaves the house and takes new paths, collecting and observing. They said his dad was crazy too, but Keith knows it isn't true. He's hearing what his father heard, a voice amongst the desert. It's the first meaningful thing Keith's had in months.  
  
He looks and looks and he finds nothing. Some nights he sits in front of the map and he laughs, ashamed of himself. His hope slips. It reappears. It waxes and wanes with the moon.  
  
Then one night there's a star trail, an asteroid.

Larger than Keith's ever seen before. Large enough to pay attention to. It breaks the atmosphere and sails downward, a streak of fire. It lands past the crest of a butte and Keith feels it's vibration as it lands. This is what he's been waiting for. This is what the desert wanted him to find.  
  
His daddy's hover-bike starts fine, a little dusty but it purrs to life. Keith tucks his hair back to keep it from blowing in his eyes. And lastly he tucks the rocket sticker, long since lost its stick, and places it in his pocket.  
  
 _I'm coming_ , he thinks.

He's not sure what he'll find - but he does know two things for sure.  
  
He's not crazy, and Shiro isn't dead.

……………………………………………………………………………

_But then it stopped and I was in the darkness  
So darkness I became_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I write a lot of threads on Twitter so come follow me! :) @bun_o_ween

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow me on Twitter (@bun_o_ween) or Tumblr (bun-o-ween) if you wanna talk about sad boys and dirty things (and please sprinkle me a little kudos for a quick and nasty second chapter)


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